


Tempting the Devil

by bexara



Series: Devil in Love [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexara/pseuds/bexara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise is in love with Aomine but Aomine is already involved with Kuroko. Akashi sees everything and decides to take the blond for himself.</p>
<p>
  <a href="http://bayoukun.tumblr.com/post/33233495986/kisecrying">Fanart by Bayou</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempting the Devil

_Prologue_

The devil tempts all men, but certain men can tempt even the devil.

Akashi stands in the shadows, silently watching Kise  _watch_  Aomine and Kuroko. Those gorgeous golden eyes are haunted, hungry, hurting. Unguarded, his face bears a raw, terrible longing completely at odds with his familiar, charming demeanor. He is beautiful in his anguish. Delectable in his unrequited pining. Seductive in his heartbreak.

_And Akashi wants him_.

Wants to sip from the fount of his despair; drink his trembling, glittering tears; swallow down his desperate, empty love that has nowhere to go. Roll Kise’s sorrow around on his tongue like the sweetest candy. A delicate shiver plays along his spine just thinking about it.

As Kise turns away, Akashi smiles and follows. He has much to teach the depressed yet dazzling blond, like how razor thin the line between pleasure and pain really is, and now is the perfect time to start.

***

 

Kise sticks his head under the gleaming faucet, no dirt nor rust nor single speck of grime marring its shining metal surface. Just like the rest of Teikō, it is sparkling and clean and perfect. It bears no semblance to the filth and dirt that smears a scummy, putrid film over his heart, his soul, his very being. 

Jealousy, envy, longing, desire,  _pain_. These are words he never really understood before, and now that he does, he finds them too feeble, too paltry to describe the mass of churning emotions coiling and rolling inside him. He loves, and because he loves and cannot have he hates, and because he hates he  _despairs_ , because it is just not his nature to carry such dark, twisted feelings.

Turning off the faucet, his fingers fumble for the towel he had draped over the edge of the basin. Not finding it, he opens his eyes, blinking past the drops of water trickling from his blond bangs, and sees a slender, pale hand holding the towel out to him. There’s only one person who can be so thoughtful, so silently caring, and who possesses a hand that small. Affection and anguish sweep through his veins. As much as he cares for the owner of that small hand, Kise despises him as well.

Forcing a smile he doesn’t feel, hasn’t felt for almost a year, not since he’s realized the dark midnight eyes he’s come to adore prefer other eyes, cool, calm blue not warm, vibrant gold, he takes the towel and straightens, vigorously rubbing his head.

“Thank you, Kurokocchi, I was about to stumble around like Midorimacchi without his glasses until you came along.” He makes his tone light, sunny, playful. He’s a model after all. He can fake happiness and joy even when he’s hungry or cold or sick, even when his heart is black and bleeding.

“Mm, I do believe that is the first time I have ever been confused for Tetsuya,” an amused voice tells him, shocking him, because the rich, clear, authoritative yet  _sweet_  sound is not what he is expecting.

“Akashicchi!” Swiping the towel once over his face, Kise lets it fall to his shoulders. “Ah, um, what are you doing out here?”

He faces the shorter male, absently noting how the sun glints off his scarlet hair, adds a warm glow to his pale skin. Akashi is attractive, beautiful even, but it is the beauty of a finely crafted sword. While appealing to look at, if you get to close, you risk getting cut by the razor sharp blade.

Akashi stares back at him, and Kise can’t meet his gaze. He knows his captain sees too much, far too much, and he is always afraid the sorrow and suffering and ugliness he now wears like a suffocating, invisible, second skin might  _not_  be so invisible to those eerie, scarlet and amber eyes.

“I followed you,” Akashi admits casually. “I don’t remember assigning extra laps outside, so I was curious as to why you would decide to do it on your own.”

Kise glances over at the track he’s just left, at the field where the baseball team is practicing, at the melancholy swallow singing sadly in the oak tree standing silent beside, at any other place he can find  _except_  for Akashi’s face.

“I just felt like running,” he shrugs, his own face a practiced mask of earnest deception. “Even I feel like training hard sometimes.”

Gravel crunching accompanies the movement of Akashi stepping up, stepping  _in_  to him, invading his space. “Just felt like running?” he echoes softly, “Or, running  _from_  something?”

Kise looks down now, he has to, with Akashi almost standing on his feet. The wind kicks up, the breeze stirring his captain’s hair, lifting the scarlet bangs away from his face. His eyes are fully revealed and they are like a fox’s with their odd, vertical pupils. And, just like a fox, Akashi is cunning, sly, predatory. Kise cannot look away, swallowed by those bright, mismatched orbs.

“I … I don’t know what you are talking about,” he finally answers, voice shaky and weak.  
  
Kise has no problems pretending with anyone else, no problems hiding the despair and desperation and toxic resentment simmering just below his polished, friendly veneer. He cannot lie to his captain, however. Not just because Akashi’s penetrating stare can easily pick out his lies, but because deep inside, in the primitive, primal part of his being, he instinctively feels the danger lying to the other male will garner. And, though he is taller, heavier, physically stronger, he is afraid.

“Don’t you?” Akashi tilts his head quizzically, but his eyes are narrowed, slitted, calculating. His hand reaches out, touching Kise’s arm. The fingers are icy, hard like pale, cold marble, and somehow possessive.

Kise shivers, wanting to move away, but frozen in place by the frigid touch and the contrasting, burning gaze that is sinking into his soul.

He opens his mouth to say … he doesn’t know what, and instead he hears another voice. The voice that haunts his dreams, that plays over his skin like the sultry, smooth jazz his father is so fond of. The voice he imagines whispering in his ear, calling his name as he touches himself late at night, under the cover of darkness, hiding his desire and shame from the rest of the world.

“Oi, Kise, what are you doing out here, dumbass? Practice is over. Tetsu and I are getting old waiting for you.”

_Aomine_. Even thinking the other’s name makes his heart clench. It also temporarily releases him from Akashi’s spell, and he drags his eyes away, looks over the crimson head, finds Aomine.  Big and bold and arrogant, Aomine is so bright, a star, a mesmerizing light blinding and yet drawing everyone around him. Kise is no exception. He is a moth to Aomine’s shining, sizzling flame. And, just like the pitiful, winged creatures, he is charred almost beyond recognition by that blaze.

Of course, Aomine is not alone. He is never alone. One long, dark arm is thrown casually over the shoulder of his partner, the person who is always by his side. A person Kise respects and adores in a different way. The one responsible for all the pain and grief eating away at him like acid. _Kuroko_. Again his heart tightens as the name scrolls through his brain, though it is animosity and guilt not love and longing causing the broken organ to constrict in his chest.

They are both looking at him expectantly, Aomine’s beautiful blue eyes tinged with impatience and annoyance. That’s right. All three of them are supposed to head to their favorite ice cream store today. Why he agreed to go with them, he doesn’t know. It’s pathetic, really. He’s a dog trailing after the other two, begging for scraps of affection that he knows will never be tossed his way.

He arranges his face into a pleasant mask, only the dull topaz of his eyes showing his wretched, miserable state. Aomine and Kuroko remain oblivious, seeing only Kise’s smiling, carefree expression. Someone else sees, though, and holds back a shiver of anticipation   Someone who relishes that sorrow and agony. Not so much because he enjoys other people’s pain, although that is part of it, but because it renders Kise absolutely breathtaking, and he cannot wait to feast on that beauty and suffering.  

Kise starts to move toward the pair, unaware of the hot, hungering gaze lingering on his face, but the touch on his arm turns into an iron grip he cannot break. Startled, he glances at Akashi only to discover the other now looking toward Kuroko and Aomine.

“Daiki, Tetsu,” he calls out in a clear, commanding tone, “Ryōta won’t be able to join you today. There are some things he needs to work on so he’s going to stay late with me to go over them.”

Confused, Kise thinks to object, but the fingers on his arm tighten almost painfully, silencing him. For whatever reason, Akashi is not through speaking with him, and Kise is not strong enough to defy him.

“I’m sorry you can’t come with us today, Kise-kun,” Kuroko responds gently. “It is good to practice and work hard, but don’t overburden your body.”

Because Kise knows Kuroko really means what he is saying, he feels all the more despicable for his dark, unworthy emotions and thoughts.

Dredging up a grin, he shrugs lightly. “I won’t, Kurokocchi! Thank you for being concerned. And, I will definitely go with you next time.”

“Che,” Aomine shakes his head in disgust, though a challenging smile twists his lips, “no matter how much you practice, you will never beat me.”

Pulse pounding so loudly he can only hope Akashi doesn’t hear, Kise keeps his words cheery and flippant. “Whah, so mean, Aominecchi! But I will definitely catch up to you one of these days, just you wait.”

Chuckling, Aomine shakes his head again. “Keep dreaming. I’ll be crotchety and gray before you stop eating my dust.”

“Aomine-kun,” Kuroko glances up at him disapprovingly, and he is instantly contrite.

“Sorry, sorry. Anyway, let’s go Tetsu, I’m starving and time’s wasting.”

Sighing, Kuorko looks back at Kise and Akashi, a small smile now gracing his face. “Then, we will see you tomorrow, Akashi-kun, Kise-kun. Have a good evening.”

Aomine doesn’t say anything else, just gives them a nonchalant wave of his hand, and then they both leave. Kise is having trouble pulling his thoughts and turbulent feelings back together. The way Kuroko can silence Aomine, change his attitude with just a single look or word, hammers home how in sync the two are and how impossible it will be for Kise’s love to ever reach Aomine. There is no room for him there, no place for him, and the knowledge is almost too excruciating to bear.

He watches after them until the pair is out of sight, not realizing he is doing so until a hand grabs his chin and forces his head back around.

“Ryōta, you will give me your full attention when we are alone,” Akashi announces quietly, but the steel in his voice demands compliance.

The fingers on his face are soft and yet rough, still chilly, but Kise somehow feels burned by them.

“Ah, um, okay,” he stutters, unsure and nervous. “What did you need me to work on, Akashicchi?”

He wants to get away from his captain as soon as possible, not only because the wounds from seeing Aomine and Kuroko together again are too fresh, too raw, but because there is something different about Akashi today. Something that is screaming at him to run, bolt, flee as far as he can, or his life will change irrevocably.

“Follow me to my office and I will show you.”

Kise does not want to follow him, does not want to be alone with him, but he cannot resist a direct order from his captain and ends up trailing meekly after Akashi anyway.

Once inside, Akashi shuts the door behind them, the clicking of the latch loud and ominous in the small space. Kise hovers near the entrance, foolishly thinking he will be okay as long as his escape route is near at hand. 

“Ryōta,” Akashi leans against his desk, arms folded, eyes sharp and knowing, “your unrequited feelings toward Daiki are hindering your performance.”

Of all the things Kise expects Akashi to say, these words are definitely not among them. He is shocked, devastated, mortified. Akashi’s statement rips the scab off the decaying sore which masquerades as his heart, laying bare the muck and torment festering there.

“What are you saying, Akashicchi,” he tries to laugh, “I don’t—.” He cannot finish the sentence. His eyes burn and well over, spilling wetly down his face.

Pushing away from the desk, Akashi walks to him, _stalks_ toward him. He stands before Kise and lifts his hands, cupping the hot, damp cheeks.

“That’s it, Ryōta, let the pain out. Daiki doesn’t understand you, doesn’t recognize you, and it hurts doesn’t it?”

A pained whimper bursts from Kise’s lips. He grabs Akashi’s wrists, intending to fling those hands away, but he can’t, can only hold on as great, heaving sobs wrack his body.

“It’s fine if Aominecchi doesn’t recognize me, as long as he and Kurokocchi let me stay beside them,” he cries, lying to Akashi, lying to himself, even though he knows he shouldn’t, that Akashi will see the deception, maybe even punish him for his dishonesty.

Akashi doesn’t. Instead, he stands on his toes, bringing his face close to Kise’s, and his tongue flicks out, licking at Kise’s tears, stunning the blond. Akashi’s tongue is soft and moist and _warm_ , unlike the cold hands cradling his face.

“Akashi, wha—,” Kise gasps, but Akashi does not let him speak, rolling over him with his honeyed, silken voice.

“It’s not enough for you, Ryōta,” Akashi declares, thumb tracing over the tears now, “because you aren’t walking beside them, but _behind_. And you are too dazzling, too full of life and energy and passion to _ever_ play second to anyone else.”

Legs giving out, Kise slides to the floor, still weeping, still hurting. “You don’t understand, Akashicchi. You don’t know how painful it is that he doesn’t want me, that no one wants me, the real me, not the happy facade I show to everyone else.”

Kneeling down, Akashi plunges his fingers into Kise’s golden hair, forcing his head up. “Look at me.” Kise quivers but does as he is bid, meeting heterochromatic eyes, seared to the core by the lust and desire he sees there. “ _I_ want you, Ryōta. I see the real you, the “you” you hide from everyone else, and I think you are beautiful.”

Before he finishes the sentence, Akashi is covering Kise’s mouth with his own, forcing his tongue between trembling lips. Kise pushes at him, tries to break the embrace, but Akash’s strength is greater than his after all. The hands in his hair form fists, winding around the strands, holding his head in place as Akashi’s mouth ravages his. The kiss is hard and bruising, stealing his breath, paralyzing his limbs. Just as dark spots start gathering in front of his eyes from the lack of oxygen, Akashi ends the kiss.

“Give me your pain, Ryōta,” he whispers sibilantly, seductively. “Give it to me and I promise you that you will find a freedom you never thought possible.”

Akashi’s lips are red and wet, his fair skin flushed and rosy. Kise is tempted. Though he’s never looked at Akashi that way, it would be so easy to give in, give up, let the other male take him over. A grinning, dusky face flashes through his mind, turning him away from those dangerous thoughts.

“I can’t,” he wails, “I love Aominecchi. I _love_ him, I can’t be with anyone else.”

Eyes darkening, Akashi twists his wrists, pulling Kise away from the door and pushing him to the ground. “You _can_ ,” he drops, covering Kise’s taller frame with his smaller but stronger body, “because I am telling you to, and I’m always right. And because I love you.”

The surprising revelation stabs into him, bewilders him. Akashi takes advantage of his confusion, kissing him again, biting his lips until the edge of pain rears its sharp head. He pants into Akashi’s mouth, feeling the first tingles of desire stir in his groin, hating himself that someone he doesn’t love is causing the reaction.

Akashi senses the change in his body, his hands leaving Kise’s hair, sliding down his body, pushing his shirt up. Nails scrape over his skin, leaving a burning trail in their wake, rasping over his nipples, scratching and poking the small discs until they are swollen and red and smarting. A knee shoves between his legs, grinding against his rapidly growing erection, eliciting a harsh cry from his lips, a cry Akashi accepts and swallows with his own mouth. A mouth that moves away, sweeps down his jaw to his neck, where teeth find the pulse rabbiting there and clamp down, working the tendon, bringing more pain, more pleasure. Worrying the tender flesh until Kise is arching off the floor, tendrils of lust spreading through his veins like wildfire.

Kise is disgusted with himself, is still pining for the one he cannot have, but with Akashi playing his body so expertly, all the reasons he shouldn’t be doing this melt away. Tears continue to stream from his burnished eyes even as he surrenders, lets himself fall into Akashi’s sweet and bitter trap.

Feeling his capitulation, Akashi smiles against his skin. “That’s it, just submit to me, Ryōta,” he murmurs approvingly. “When you are hurt and lost, come to me, just like this. I will soothe you, take your pain and make it my own, give you the love you so desperately crave.”

“ _Akashicchi_ ,” his name is a tortured whisper, and his smile widens. His hands turn rougher, scratching and pinching and then rubbing the pain away, pushing Kise’s mind into a space where nothing matters but Akashi and the agony and ecstasy he is carving into the trim, tawny body beneath him. In the haze of passion clouding his thoughts, Kise isn’t aware when Akashi strips them both, not until he feels the touch of cool flesh on his heated skin. It jolts him, and he climbs up through the sensual fog.

“No, Akashicchi, this isn’t right,” he protests, Akashi’s arousal rigid and scorching where it presses against him. “I don’t love you!”

“You will,” Akashi fires back, almost grimly. “I won’t settle for anything else.”

There is no time to object again. Akashi spreads Kise’s legs, settles between, and _pushes_. His cock, lubricated with some lotion or ointment during Kise’s daze, pierces Kise’s body, forcing its way inside. It hurts, the burning pain unlike anything Kise has ever experienced. He screams, struggling to get away, but Akashi grabs his hands, locks their fingers, and slams them down beside his head.

“You’re mine now, Ryōta,” Akashi informs him harshly. “I won’t let anyone else have you, not Daiki, not your thousands of fans, not anyone. Your pain and pleasure belong only to me, and I will never let anyone else see you like this.”

Kise can only toss his head back forth, writhing beneath the man penetrating him, taking him, _fucking_ him. The invader inside his body feels like a fiery steel pole, shoving and sliding into his resisting flesh, opening him up until the strokes are smoother, until they glide easier. Back and forth, deeper and faster, and now Kise is feeling something else besides the pain, an unwelcome pleasure that begins to build and grow. Each time Akashi drives deep, he rams into something that shoots sparks of dark delight into Kise's weeping, throbbing dick. His back bows again, moans and cries jerking from his throat.

As if this is some kind of signal only he understands, Akashi releases Kise’s hands, grabs his cock and a nipple, squeezes both until his grip borders just this side of agony, caressing and molesting these sensitive parts of Kise’s body with alternating gentle and painful touches, until Kise is nothing but one giant mass of seething, boiling longing and lust.

“Look at me,” Akashi demands again, forcing Kise’s eyes that had fluttered shut to pop open. He stares up into a wild, glittering red and yellow gaze, a gaze gone wide and dark with desire, and knows he will never be the same again. Akashi, as always, sees more than he should, and satisfaction lights his dual-colored eyes. “That’s right, look only at me, know only I can give you this pleasure. Only I can take away your distress and sorrow and replace it with this exquisite pain.”

He crushes their lips together, pumping the hand on Kise’s erection with quick, tight movements, sending Kise over the edge. Body shuddering and heaving, Kise shouts out his orgasm, the sound muffled by Akashi’s mouth, liquid heat rushing out from his cock in white, sticky spurts. Akashi slams into him, hips pounding, riding Kise hard and fast until he, too, stiffens and pours his cum hot and thick into Kise’s body.

When the glow of climax fades, Kise suddenly feels cold, dirty, empty.

“We shouldn’t have done this,” he shivers, voice raw and hoarse from his screams.

“You’re wrong,” Akashi lifts his head, looking down at Kise as he gently brushes a strand of damp, blond hair off his brow. The glimmer in his mismatched eyes, however, is not gentle at all. “This was inevitable, just like it is inevitable that you will seek me out again. When the anguish and heartache are too much for you to handle, you will want me to comfort you. You will crave my touch, will long to drown yourself in the painful joy only I can give you.”

“Never,” Kise retorts, but it is a feeble response. In the depths of his soul, he is uneasy, wondering if Akashi is right, despising himself that he is even questioning at all.

Three days later, he finds his answer. After gathering up his clothes and fleeing Akashi’s office, he makes a concerted effort to avoid his captain, ensuring he is always surrounded by his teammates during practice. He can feel Akashi watching him, the weight of his gaze hot and heavy and expectant. Kise swears to himself he will never let himself give in to the sweet poison Akashi offers, and almost as soon as he makes that oath he breaks it. Because he is helping Kuroko stretch, pushing on the other’s back, chatting gaily about nonsensical things, and he sees the mark on Kuroko’s pale neck. It is red, vivid, a bruised rose on his white skin. Proof of Aomine’s and Kuroko’s physical relationship, and bile bubbles sickly in his stomach.

He hurts, he bleeds, he despairs. And, on zombie-like legs, he ends up outside Akashi’s door. Pushes it wide and finds Akashi waiting for him.

“Come, Ryōta,” Akashi opens his arms, smile dark and heated, “let me be the one to hurt you, and then let me love you as only I can, as only I do.”

Breath and pulse racing, Kise shuts the door behind him and surrenders again, walking into those wicked, waiting arms.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> I started this awhile back for my awesome friend fuwacchi who was going through a rough period. She wanted AkaKise angst, so I tried to give it to her by showing her a snippet. Then I went through my own rough time and couldn't finish it (I'm still dealing with some kind of funky writer's block again ... grrr). The prologue is actually a drabble I wrote before and then I used it as the basis for the fic. Eerily and ironically enough, the day after I posted the snippet, someone translated a AkaKise doujin which is very similar to my story. I guess I'm not the only one who sees their relationship like this.


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